Freeze Frame, Screen Kiss
by caribou.and.cake
Summary: Ichigo is a young up and comer. Grimmjow is an A-lister whose career has been marred by booze, drugs, and general bad behavior. They meet when they sign on to play star-crossed lovers in the movie of the century, but Ichigo isn't gay...right? AU, Yaoi
1. I Want Him

**Chapter One: I Want Him**

* * *

"_Come! though your hair be a cascade of fire,_

_Your lips twin snakes, your tongue the lightning flash,_

_Your teeth God's grip on life, your face His lyre, _

_Your eyes His stars - come, let our Venus lash_

_Our bodies with the whips of Her desire._

_Your bed's the world, your body the world-ash."_

* * *

_He was on a set with bright lights flashing into his face whilst he reclined on the comfortable couch. The in-house, live audience looked down on him with fervent gazes, hanging onto his every word, their faces blending together beyond the blinding stage lights. It felt a little strange, but waves of accomplishment washed over him. This was what he had always wanted, what he had always dreamed of having. A real career.  
_  
_"Ichigo Kurosaki, you have just won the Academy Award for best actor. How does that feel knowing just a year ago you were a clerk at a gas station?"_

_The reporter sitting across from him, leaned forward, eager to hear Ichigo's answer.  
_  
_"Well, it feels great. I mean, I've always known that I wanted to be an actor and this just validates every thing I've ever done up to this point," he answered honestly.  
_  
_"Fascinating. Now, is it true that-"  
_  
Bzzz...Bzzz...Bzzz

_"Ahem, is it true that you-"  
_  
Bzzz...Bzzz...Bzzz

* * *

The vibrating of his cell phone on his nightstand woke Ichigo Kurosaki up that morning. It wasn't the most pleasant of awakenings, considering it was...

Rubbing the rheum out of his eyes and blinking wearily, he glanced at the alarm clock, sitting innocently next to his cell phone, blaring that it was _seven-thirty_ a.m. Who the hell was calling him at this ungodly hour? And he had been having such a nice dream too...

Groaning, Ichigo flung out his hand and nearly crushed the offending device in his hands before pressing the "call" button.

"What is it?" he mumbled into the phone, his voice rough.

"Ichigo! Have you seen it?" a shrieking voice cut through the speaker, making the orange-headed man wince.

"Wha...? Rukia, do you know what time it is?" Ichigo pressed his face back against the pillow, closing his eyes. He had been working the late shift at work last night and he wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep.

"Go look at Seireitei Communication's latest blog post. Now," Rukia, sounding like she could barely contain her excitement, demanded. What could be so exciting that she had to call him at seven-thirty in the morning? Knowing her, it was probably something he didn't care about in the least, but wanting to humor his oldest friend, Ichigo very slowly pushed himself to a sitting position on his bed.

About a minute later, he had his laptop open on his lap and typed in Seireitei Communication's URL into the browser. He knew about the blog of course, everyone in the business did. They were the most up-to-date on celebrities, trends, you name it, they knew about it and were reporting on it as soon as they found out. As they said in almost every blog "We told you first!". It was kind of creepy.

The garishly pink website flickered onto his screen, with the newest blog update, dated last night. Ichigo's heart immediately leapt into his throat at the title.

**Newcomer and A-lister to Star in Upcoming Film  
**

_Hi there, my lovelies! Exciting news for all of you bookworms today! As you know I, Rangiku Matsumoto, reported exclusively last week that there was a film adaptation of _De Six a Quinze, _the critically acclaimed novel by best-selling author __**Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck**__, in the works. However, now I can finally report on who will be playing the roles of star-crossed lovers Alexander Fullbring and the Viscount Heathcliff Allistair!_

_Of course, there was huge buzz surrounding the role of Alexander, as it was almost certainly going to go to a new face and from my sources I can confirm just that! And the newcomer is certainly not a disappointment if his head shot is anything to go by, what a cutie! His name is__** Ichigo Kurosaki**__ and he hails from Japan and apparently moved to America to pursue his dreams of being an actor. It looks like he got his wish, having landed the role of a lifetime, as _De Six a Quinze _will be directed by the handsome and famous (don't forget eccentric!) __**Coyote Starrk**__, and it will be produced by __**Visored Entertainment**__. Production hasn't even started and this film is already getting some Oscar buzz! _

_Excited yet? I sure am, and I haven't even revealed who will play the role of the brooding, gorgeous Viscount. Well, who else better than the brooding, gorgeous __**Grimmjow Jaegerjaques**__? Though Visored or Jaegerjaques' rep haven't issued a statement confirming his involvement in the film (yet), my sources tell me that the award winning actor has already signed on to play the Viscount! And it will be his first acting gig in over a year, which we can chalk up to his typical bad-boy behavior and late nights. So, does he still have what it takes?_

_Anyway, I can feel my nose already start to bleed at the thought of these two winsome men's steamy love scenes! I'll see you at the premiere. Don't forget to leave your comments on what you think below! Until next time, my lovelies!_

_3 Rangiku  
_

"Isn't it great!" Rukia's high-pitched squeal nearly broke Ichigo out of his reverie.

His mind was racing a million miles a minute as he stared at the head shot he used for his portfolio, glowering up at him from the web page, directly across from a picture of a blue-haired man flipping off a camera. It was all so much information to take in...

It was staggering to think about all that this singular blog post was reporting, not even knowing how drastically it had just changed his life. How did this Rangiku person know that he came from Japan and moved to America to become an actor? How did she get his picture? And furthermore, how did she know the director and other lead actor even before he did?

But...he was going to be working with Coyote Starrk, a director famous for his work before he had even reached thirty. He already had several Academy Awards under his belt and was a god in Ichigo's eyes.

And what really got to him?

He was going to star in a movie. With Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. The actor that had been the reason he had ever even wanted to act in the first place.

"Ichigo? Hello? Are you there?"

He was silent for a few more moments.

"_Holy shit_."

But of course, reader, you're probably confused. How did someone like Ichigo, with no professional acting experience, land the role of a lifetime?

Well, let's rewind to about two weeks ago, shall we?

* * *

"Hey kid, you're up next."

Ichigo looked up from the thick packet of paper in his hands to see the owner of the voice that had spoken to him. It was the woman who had been chaperoning the hopeful young men who had been waiting in the room with him into the conference room next door. He had watched all of them go through the door with wide, shining eyes, blithe at the prospect of meeting with the high-powered casting directors of Visored Entertainment. Then he had watched as one by one they all returned with a misery so potent it was almost tangible, leaving without a word. Ichigo was the only one left.

Needless to say, his heart started racing at the thought of facing the casting directors that he had only ever heard about. Would they just look at him and send him away? Would they criticize his appearance? His acting skills? Most likely.

Ichigo shook his head and stood from his seat, resolution furrowing his brow. He knew that he had some talent, and that if the "Red-headed Male, Aged 18-22" casting description was anything to go by, then he was what they were looking for. Well, looks-wise anyway. He could do this.

The woman, who had dark hair plaited into a braid and glasses, ushered him through the door to his left, into the conference room.

Why did it feel like the air-conditioning had suddenly stopped working?

There was a long table about twenty feet away from him, where three people were sitting, not even bothering to look up at Ichigo as he made his way to the singular chair in front of them. He silently hoped that he hadn't started to sweat as heat blossomed all over his skin. He felt like he might combust.

Honestly, when he had shown up that morning, at six o'clock, along with a hundred other red-headed men, he hadn't even expected to get past the first casting call, led by a man in a blue tracksuit whom had immediately fawned over Ichigo's orange hair. But here he was, staring directly at the head casting directors of Visored Entertainment, a place he had imagined himself so very many times.

Sitting down on the hard, metal chair Ichigo pulled at the collar of his shirt. He felt like he was suffocating.

There were two men, both blondes; one with a creepy grin on his face and the other with a dreamy expression. The other person was a small woman, also blonde. And here Ichigo had thought that he had seen all the blondes he could ever see in a lifetime, living in L.A.

"Ichigo Kurosaki...so you're Japanese, huh?" the man with the creepy grin asked, looking up from Ichigo's portfolio spread before him on the table. Ichigo just nodded.

"Can you even speak English?" the woman snapped, obviously annoyed after a long day of interviewing talentless wannabees. He stiffened before clearing his throat, raising a fist to his mouth.

"Yes," he answered gruffly, feeling his eyebrows come together despite his best efforts to keep his face expressionless.

"I think he's cute. He looks just like how I imagined Alexander," the dreamy blonde said airily, resting his chin and staring at Ichigo with glazed eyes. Ichigo briefly wondered if the man was high.

"Tch. He'd have to train on an elliptical for hours if he even wanted to have a shot. He's too scrawny" the woman snorted and looked away from Ichigo and out the window. He felt heat rise to his face, both from irritation and embarrassment. Ichigo knew he was no body-builder, but he wasn't _scrawny _by any means, and he desperately wanted to tell that to the snaggle-toothed woman. However, he bit his tongue and said nothing.

"Hmm...says here you've been in a couple of independent films in Japan...and you went to Don Kanonji School of the Arts. Very impressive," the first blonde man mused, eyes scanning over the paper before him, fingers absently playing with his tie.

"Thanks," Ichigo scratched the back of his head, wondering who "Alexander" was supposed to be. He guessed it was the name of the character they were considering casting him for, but they had been so vague in their advertisement.

They all sat there in silence, the woman staring out of the window, apparently irritated, the first blonde man looking down at Ichigo's portfolio, and the other man still staring unblinkingly at the orange-haired man. Ichigo shifted in his seat, incredibly uncomfortable.

"Well, we'll give you a call if we're interested," the first man said, the strange grin appearing on his face once more. Ichigo felt his heart clench at the words. They weren't even going to let him read the script for them? Let him say more than two words?

He knew what that phrase meant. It was the universal brush-off. Ichigo had heard it many times before, but...he had really felt like this had been his big break. The role that would have his career taking off like a rocket. So much for that.  
Not trusting his voice, Ichigo nodded once, before gathering himself and walking out of the room.

Well that had been...disheartening. To say the least. He was ready to go home and lock himself in the bathroom and cry like a bitch. He wouldn't though, he would go home and get changed out of the expensive Rag and Bone jacket he had shelled out an entire week's pay for, and go to his to god-forsaken work place, where he would stand behind the cash register for hours, and then he would go back home, go to sleep, and repeat. That was the way his life had been for the past year and that was probably the way it would always be.

Ichigo rode the elevator down to the ground floor in a daze, numbly blocking out the sounds and sights around him. He felt so tired, all he really wanted to do was go home and sleep, but there wouldn't be any time for more than a quick cat nap before he had to leave for the 7-11 where he worked.

He was almost to the door of the grand lobby when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Almost jumping a foot into the air, he spun around to see the woman from before, the one with the braid and glasses. Her eyes were hard behind her spectacles but she had a slight smile on her face.

"They want to see you upstairs, kid."

* * *

"Have you ever kissed a man before, Ichigo?"

He was sure that he must have looked like a gaping fish right then, eyes wide and mouth opening and closing as he searched for words that wouldn't come.

They...they hadn't called him back for..._that_, had they?

The thought made Ichigo's stomach churn and he scowled, regaining control over himself despite his earlier shock.

"No," he answered firmly, his body tensing. He was ready for a fight if that's what it came down to. He noticed that in the corner of the room there was a new man, tall and thin, with long black hair that was neatly braided. He wore the same disinterested expression as everyone else in the room. The blonde woman still wouldn't meet Ichigo's eyes as they scanned across the four people. It was obvious she was pissed that he had been called back.

But why _had_ he been called back?

"Are you opposed to the idea?"

It had been the dreamy man who had asked the question, both times, and Ichigo felt very much like reaching across the long table and socking him right in the jaw, but instead he clenched his fists. It was too much like the man was coming on to him.

"Now, Rose, don't you think you should explain to him why you are asking him such questions?" the other blonde man asked, eerily cheerful. Rose frowned, as if he had never even thought of that. The woman snorted and trained her eyes on Ichigo, glaring at him.

"Look kid, we're making a movie about gay guys fucking each other. You in or not?"

Again, Ichigo was reduced to his gaping fish face.

Were they offering him a role? In what sounded very much like a porno?

"Always so straight to the point, Hiyori. And it's a _love _story," Rose chuckled and rested his chin on his hand. Hiyori just rolled her eyes and reclined in her seat.

"Mr. Kurosaki, what both of my colleagues were _trying _to ask of you was if you were interested in a leading role in our newest production," the blonde man in between the two asked, his grin falling from his face to reveal a rather serious expression.

Ichigo felt his heart stop in mid-beat, his eyes widening to the size of saucers. Did he just say _lead role_? But, he hadn't even done a screen test, or script reading, or anything!

"I'll assume from your expression that that's a yes. Well, you see, the...dilemma is that the movie is a love story involving two men. The role we have in mind for you is one of those two men. Do you have a problem with that?"

Ichigo had to take several moments to find his voice. What was he supposed to say? He wasn't gay, and he didn't exactly relish the idea of kissing another man, but this was a _lead role _in a _Visored _production. This was the big break he had been hoping for for years now. This was what he had always wanted. To be a real actor.

"No, I don't have a problem with it," he finally said, shifting in his seat.

"Good. You know, you're very lucky, Mr. Kurosaki," the casting director smiled again, revealing his creepily large teeth.

"Yes, I know," Ichigo said. He knew that it was one of those one in a million, no, one in like five hundred sextillion chances.

"Oh, but _do_ you?"

No, actually Ichigo had no idea just how very lucky he was.

* * *

On that morning, Ichigo wasn't the only one to have a rude awakening.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaques had been very peacefully dead to the world, entangled in Williams-Sonoma, 900 thread count silken sheets and snoring so loudly that his bedfellow, a young singer famous for her heartsick pop songs, was long gone. And that was just the way he liked it, alone and deeply asleep from whatever he had taken last night, not that he could remember what that was.

Well, at least he was, until a sharp sting on his right cheek startled him out of his dreamless rest. Bright blue eyes flew open, accompanied by Grimmjow's choked gasp. Who the hell would slap him across the face to wake him up?  
His vision was blurry for a few seconds, somewhat due to the tears that had formulated due to the stinging on his cheek, but he could make out the outline of a figure staring down at him with large, emerald eyes.

Oh yeah, he should have known.

There weren't many people in this world that dared to do anything that might incur Grimmjow's wrath, and there was only one he could think of that would dare to slap him while he was sleeping.

Ulquiorra's face was impassive, per usual, as he crossed his arms over his espresso black, Tom Ford suit. However, Grimmjow had known the man long enough to understand his extremely subtle displays of emotions. Ulquiorra was pissed, hence the very painful awakening. But...what had he done to make the man so angry?

Oh, but the real question was what _hadn't _he done?

"What the _fuck_?" Grimmjow growled, cradling his right cheek with his hand. It probably wouldn't bruise, but it definitely would be red for a few hours. Ulquiorra wasn't impressed by his longtime client's glare. He had been the recipient of it almost every day for the last decade and its potency had worn off after a few months. Besides, lately the glares had been watered down by the star's glassy, unfocused eyes.

"Get dressed. Shawlong is waiting with the car," came the clipped reply, Ulquiorra turning on his heel to walk out of the spacious bedroom.

Sitting up, with the sheets falling to his waist and exposing his chest, Grimmjow blinked wearily at the smaller, dark-haired man.

"Dressed? For what?" he mumbled, his anger already dissipating. Now he was just trying to remember what he was supposed to do today. Something in the back of his mind told him it was important...

"Your meeting with Visored was supposed to start twenty minutes ago. It is my suggestion that you start getting dressed immediately, and preferably in a suit," Ulquiorra spun around to face Grimmjow again, looking down at the actor with a slightly condescending stare.

"Shit," he cursed lowly. He had completely and totally forgotten about that. If he had remembered, he wouldn't have...Well, actually even if Grimmjow had remembered, he would have still gone out last night and he would have still downed those shots of elit and whatever else he had taken, and he would have still bedded that blonde chick with the annoying voice. That was how he was now.

Grimmjow barely recognized that Ulquiorra had left the room when he slid out of the sheets, revealing his naked form. He would have still done so even if the man had been in his bedroom; he had no shame anymore.  
His head felt like it would fall right off as he walked to the en suite bathroom. The actor placed his palms on the cool metal of his sink and looked into the mirror in front of him.

He looked like shit. There was no getting around it. He hadn't shaved for days and his blue eyes were bloodshot and puffy, almost like he had been crying. He had dark circles and Grimmjow could only thank whatever god was out there that he wasn't old enough to have wrinkles.

In this business looks were everything, that was it. We all know it, so it shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone. It wasn't as harsh of a rule for men as it was for women, but that had been one of the reasons Grimmjow had been hired in the first place. His looks. People everywhere still fawned over his blue hair and eyes, his body in general, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before they would lose their luster. Hell, it was already happening.

Running the tap, Grimmjow splashed cold water onto his face, hoping to reduce the bloated guise he was currently sporting. He was no make-up artist, but over the decade he had spent acting he had picked up a few tricks to cure that awful hangover look. He just hoped that this meeting was worth it.

Oh but he had absolutely no idea.

Twenty minutes, a shave, a carefully pressed, gray Burberry suit, and a shot of Chopin later, Grimmjow was inside of the Maybach in his driveway.

"That took less time than I expected," Ulquiorra mused quietly as the two sat by side in the backseat of the car. Grimmjow just rolled his eyes as Shawlong pulled out of the large driveway, pressing the pedal to the floor. They were already forty minutes late.

* * *

It only took about ten minutes to drive to Visored Entertainment's offices. The building wasn't particularly tall by skyscraper standards, but it made up for it in its lavishness. The lobby was decorated in rich browns and soft golds, colors that Grimmjow had always liked. Perhaps that was the reason he had agreed to come to this meeting. Perhaps not. He wasn't really sure.

Ulquiorra and Grimmjow walked through the revolving doors, only to be almost immediately assaulted by a young woman with dark purple hair and excessive make-up.

"Oh, hi Mr. Jaegerjaques! I'm so sorry, but I am your _biggest _fan and I heard you were going to be here today and I was wondering if you could-"

"Pardon me, but Mr. Jaegerjaques needs to somewhere right now," Ulquiorra interrupted the girl in his detached way, looking down at her with cool green eyes. Grimmjow sighed. He really hated this shit.

"What do you want?" he asked the girl roughly, only slightly trying not to sound like he was irritated.

"I, uh, um..." the woman stuttered, clutching something to her chest while she stared wide-eyed at the famous actor. Upon closer inspection, Grimmjow saw that the thing she was holding was a camera. He sighed again.

"You want a picture?"

"Y-yes," she held up the camera almost apologetically. Obviously she had never considered that he would be so intimidating in person, not when she had seen him in all of those romantic movies, uttering sweet nothings into the lead actress' ear.

"Well come on then, I ain't got all day," Grimmjow barked, shoving his hands into his pockets. The woman almost jumped at his tone, but then she apparently realized that this was the chance of a lifetime and smiled brightly.

The blunette resisted pushing the purple-haired woman away while she clung to his side, snapping a picture with her digital camera. He didn't bother smiling.

"Oh, thank you so much Mr. Jaegerjaques, I really lo-"

But Grimmjow was already walking away, leaving the woman behind, Ulquiorra following behind him.

"You shouldn't have done that. Now we are only tardier," the latter stated. Grimmjow just grunted in response, approaching the row of elevators. Good thing he had Ulquiorra with him, because he could remember what floor the office was on for shit. He couldn't even remember who he was supposed to meet with today; he just knew that they worked for Visored.

The ride up seemed like it took forever, with the damn thing stopping on every floor. Most of the people who got on had been in the building long enough to know not to stare at the famous actor, but some who got on just openly gaped at the man. Ten years ago, it would've pissed him off, but now it was as natural as breathing. It was life.

"This is our floor," Ulquiorra announced as the elevator lurched to a halt at the thirty-fourth floor. The little bell of the elevator dinged and the doors opened to reveal a scowling young man.

Grimmjow felt his breath hitch at the sight, but it wasn't until a second later that he realized why.

The orange-haired, surly, slender youth was indisputably beautiful. As in, though Grimmjow had lived in the mecca of beautiful people for the past ten years, this boy was the most stunning sight he had ever seen. Even with his brow furrowed and his eyes on the ground. He wondered what color they were.

Now, normally in this situation, Grimmjow would have just outright made it known that he was attracted to the man or woman, but for some reason he couldn't find his voice. Like he had literally been rendered speechless by the young man's good looks. It wasn't like him at all.

"Come now, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra placed a hand on the blunette's elbow and led him out of the elevator. Uncharacteristically, Grimmjow let himself by pulled out of the elevator the orange-head had just entered. The boy didn't even spare a glance in his direction, his eyes still trained on the floor. Grimmjow didn't even realize what was happening until the elevator doors closed and his eyes burned from the mental pain of not seeing him anymore.

Who _was _that?

It took about a minute for his brain to catch up with the rest of his body and before he knew it, he was entering the doorway of a rather luxurious office. There was a large desk in the middle, with a lean blonde man with a creepy grin reclining behind it.

"Ah, hello Grimmjow," said blonde man greeted, his grin growing even wider. "We've been waiting on you. I had to sit in on casting today just to alleviate my boredom, you know."

Grimmjow shook his head, as if that would clear it from the thoughts of the beautiful orange-haired boy. It didn't work, especially as his eyes raked over the man's desk, seeing on it the very visage that had shaken him to his core. God, he was getting hard just looking at the boy's _picture_.

But why would it be there? Well, there was only reason that would make sense. The kid was an actor, that was his head shot, and he had been rejected, hence the murderous look that had been on his face.

A feral smile crossed Grimmjow's face as he looked from the man's desk back to the man himself, who was giving him an amused look. Ulquiorra cleared his throat behind the actor, obviously wanting him to say something. It was weird that he was just standing there, but what they didn't know was that a delicious compromise was brewing in his mind.

Grimmjow couldn't believe his luck.

"Look, I'm just gonna cut to the chase, yeah?" he said, his smile reducing to a small smirk. "You want me to be in your movie, right?"

"Well, that was the gist of meeting today," the blonde man said, the grin falling from his face. He knew he was not going to like whatever came out of the blunette's mouth next.

"I got one condition," Grimmjow held up a finger to exacerbate his point. Crossing the room, his stance predatory and his eyes gleaming with mirth, he laid that finger on the picture of the beautiful boy. "I want _him_."

And what Grimmjow wanted, he got.

* * *

**A/N**: Ah, Ichigo how can you just walk right by Grimmjow and not even notice him? Ahem. anyway, so this is my attempt at a light-hearted fic. I know I like just started "A God in an Alcove" but this idea actually came to me while I was in one of those half-asleep stages before I actually fell asleep and it just wouldn't leave me alone, you know? I hope it's not too _out-there_.

And writing Rangiku's blog was the most fun I've had writing in a long time. Expect to see more of that. ; )

**Warnings**: (This is for future and all chapters) Smut, naughty words, some violence, OOC, and name-dropping like crazy.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Bleach, Rag and Bone,Williams-Sonoma, Tom Ford, elit Vodka, Burberry, Chopin vodka, or Maybach.

Also, the title of this story, "Freeze Frame, Screen Kiss", comes from the lyrics of Bauhaus' song "She's in Parties", which I was listening to when I was drafting this chapter. Fits perfectly, huh? : )

Oh and at the beginning is an excerpt from the poem "Adela" by Aleister Crowley. Love that poem so much!

Um, so please review?


	2. Hi Strawberry

**Important Note: **If dialogue is _italicized_, then the speaker is not speaking English. This will usually only be applicable to those who speak Japanese.

Also, I meant to get this out _days _ago, but there was a site-wide problem with updating in fandoms with a lot of fics (e.g. Bleach) that was just recently resolved. Anyway, onto the story!

* * *

**Chapter Two: Hi Strawberry  
**

"_Jesus loves your mouth sugar, just not the things you say."_

* * *

Ichigo's head was still reeling even after he said goodbye to Rukia and hung up the phone. He had closed his laptop, not even bothering to "x" out of the browser, and laid back on his bed. It must have been a few minutes, or maybe a few hours, that he stared at his ceiling. It was one of those strange phases when he thought of everything and nothing all at once, like his mind was cloudy and brilliantly clear at the same time.

His brain supplied him with image after image, like a silent movie, yet he wasn't really paying attention. He felt like he was in a dream, a daze. Would he wake soon to find that this was nothing more than a fantasy flitting through his mind? Would he open his eyes to see the bleak interior of the 7-11, his boss yelling at him for falling asleep on the job? It certainly seemed like something that would happen to him.

Ichigo, for the past two weeks, had been continuing life as normal. It hadn't dawned on him that he had gotten a _leading role _in a _Visored _production directed by _Coyote Starrk _and co-starring _Grimmjow Jaegerjaques_.

He had gone to work everyday, per usual, and nothing had changed. His boss still shrieked like a woman every time Ichigo was caught napping behind the cash register. He still miscounted the till after every shift. He still managed to hit his head on the counter every time he bent over. He still trudged home at an hour after midnight every night, even his bones feeling tired. Nothing had changed, and yet _everything _had. So, how long before he could see the effects?

The answer came when a light rapping sound echoed throughout his studio apartment.

Ichigo's apartment was situated so that his bed was on a slightly raised dais in the left corner, so that all he would have to do was turn his head to look directly at the door. So when it started to swing open to reveal a tall man with an impossibly wide grin, he immediately sat up, entangled in the bedclothes. However, before his feet could even hit the floor, the man had already stepped inside of his apartment and shut Ichigo's door behind him.

"_Maa, maa, why would ya hav' yer door unlocked in a neighborhood like this_?"

The first thing Ichigo had noticed about the man was his very bizarre smirk, so broad that his eyes were only slits. Then he noticed the odd silver hair that was immaculately styled into one of those shaggy coifs that were so popular with younger males today. And then? Well, he wasn't speaking English, but Japanese, with a very distinct Kyoto dialect.

Ichigo didn't know exactly what to do. He didn't know the man, but he certainly acted as if he knew the young actor. And the man had just walked into his apartment after only knocking once, not even bothering to wait for any kind of response.

He didn't move, keeping his body completely still. He knew enough about these kind of situations that if he were to make any sudden movements, it could be the end of him.

_Danger_, his mind whispered. But what could he do? Ichigo didn't know if the man was armed, if he was some sort of martial arts expert (not that the orangette couldn't hold his own in a physical fight), or even if he was completely misinterpreting the silver-haired man's intentions. Not that entering someone's home without their express permission was exactly a subtle move.

"_The lock doesn't latch_," Ichigo answered solemnly, in Japanese, still sitting on his bed and staring the man down with a fierce expression. The intruder didn't seem fazed. His eyes didn't even _open_.

Ichigo also noticed in the next second that the man was wearing what looked to be a _very _expensive suit. Though the actor hadn't really been into fashion before, he had developed an eye for fabrics and their worth whilst living in a city as superficial as L.A. It was important. People's lives (or livelihood, actually) depended on it. He also eyed the large paper shopping bag that the man held behind his back with his right hand.

"_Ahh...well, I suppose ya won' have ta worry 'bout tha' no more, Kurosaki-san_,"

If it was possible, the man's grin grew even wider.

The hairs on the back of Ichigo's neck rose, a prickling sensation spreading across his skin. The man knew his name... and what exactly did he mean by he wouldn't have to worry about his lock anymore?

"_Ya did know tha' Hirako-san wanted ta move ya ta a nice hotel, right_?"

Ichigo's heart stopped and started again in a very brief second, as he felt his mind start to slow down to process the new information. After all, it had only been last week when he had found out that the blonde man (another person with a strange grin) that had been at his casting was actually the president of Visored Entertainment, and with his constant back-breaking schedule, he hadn't really had time to think on it. Oh, _and_ he had found out that the man's name was Shinji Hirako.

But still, why had the man just entered his apartment? And not even bother to introduce himself?

"_Ah, how silly of me, ta jus' barge in here without even introducin' myself_," the silver-haired man stepped forward several times and set his shopping bag down. Ichigo briefly wondered what was in it before the man extended a bony hand, on which he noticed a purple, corded bracelet. "_Ichimaru Gin, your new representative_."

* * *

About thirty minutes later, Ichigo was freshly showered and changed into what had been the mysterious shopping bag's contents. A pair of distressed True Religion jeans, a dark gray Billy Reid Henley, and a black Rag and Bone blazer (apparently Gin had heard he liked the brand, but from whom, Ichigo would never know.) He didn't think that he had owned anything so valuable in his entire life, and these were just "some clothes" that Gin had "picked up" on his way to Ichigo's apartment. It was a little mind-boggling. He had never considered that he was going to have his own clothes picked out for him, aside from his own shoes. But then again, he was realizing that he hadn't thought a lot about being an actor beside the actual _acting _part.

"_Well, we certainly can' have ya walkin' around in rags, can we_?" Gin had said to the orangette's dumbfounded look at the clothes. Said orangette didn't realize until much later that he had been insulted.

Gin Ichimaru, had been sent by Visored Entertainment to escort Ichigo around from place to place, as he had explained to the actor. The man would personally be taking care of the appointments, engagements, and protocol that went along with being hired for a leading role in a Visored production, and making sure that the young man went everywhere he was supposed to. Ichigo wanted to ask if Gin was any different from a babysitter, but he held his tongue.

When he came out of the bathroom, he noticed Gin standing by the collapsible tray in front of his sofa that doubled as the dining and coffee table. Best twenty dollars Ichigo had ever spent.

Gin brushed his fingertips over a thick book that lay on the tray. Everyone knew the book just by looking at its cover (a basic black with white lettering and the image of a tarnished pocket watch); it was now a cultural phenomenon. But he was sure that wasn't why Ichigo owned the book.

"_So have ya read it yet_?" Gin questioned, his head slightly cocking to the side.

"_I, uh...I read the first few pages_," Ichigo admitted abashedly, heat pooling in his face. He had meant to read De Six a Quinze, he really had, but he just hadn't gotten around to it. Every time he had sat down to read the book, he had been interrupted by something, or he had just been too tired to continue. Besides, if he could be completely honest, he wasn't exactly gripped by the first few pages. The writing was superfluous and dramatic, with phrases like "He had eyes like a pure electric, azure fire, with too much blazing heat to be reduced to the natural titian flame" and "His hair was the color of the sunset, warm and lovely beyond compare, with a licentious style that suggested earlier and sensual antics." He had never known that so many words could be spent describing someone's physical characteristics.

Ichigo had always preferred movies to books anyway. He felt that so much more could be said without as many words.

Gin had only clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth in a condescending, chastising manner before ushering Ichigo out of the door. He had explained earlier that he had been sent by Visored to collect the young actor and bring him to today's script reading. Ichigo had expressed that he had thought it would be several more weeks before that, if went by his previous knowledge on how movie production worked.

"_Oh no, Kurosaki-san. Ya see, Hirako-san wants ta have the movie released in theatres this December_," Gin said as they descended the stairs of Ichigo's apartment complex. At the younger man's dumbfounded look, Gin's grin widened. "_It's a rather sticky situation. Hirako-san wants ta speed up production so tha' the film can be released before tha sensationalism over the novel ends and tha next awards season._"

"_Oh_," Ichigo sighed, looking from the man's fox-like face to the street before them, on which was parked an extremely sleek car. Already he could see several other tenants that lived close by gathering on the sidewalk, eyeing the car and the two men standing next to it. It made him feel a little uneasy, but he brushed it aside. "_So...are you from Japan_?"

Ever since he had heard Gin speak fluent, perfect Japanese (with a dialect) he had wondered if the man shared the same homeland.

"_Ah, yes. Hirako-san thought that ya would be more comfortable wit' a fellow countryman as yer representative_."

"_Oh, okay..._" Ichigo trailed off as Gin opened one of the doors to the car and gestured for him to get in. It didn't escape his notice that the man didn't elaborate.

* * *

In the car, Gin debriefed Ichigo on the various things that would go on today. Apparently "script readings" involved much more than actually just reading the script. There were measurements to be taken for wardrobe, papers and contracts to be signed, an appointment with the hair and make-up team, and various meetings with different people, etc etc etc. But instead of being overwhelmed, the young actor was strangely energized, a feeling he hadn't had for a while. He stared out of the lightly tinted windows as Gin drove, a feat that Ichigo was baffled by, considering it still looked like the man's eyes were closed.

As they traveled farther and farther from the east side of the city, the apartments and townhouses slowly diffused into large, sprawling estates. Perfectly manicured lawns lay before bungalows and Spanish-roofed mansions, expensive cars and palm trees lining the streets. Ichigo felt like he was in one of those cliche movies about a young girl ascending to stardom and fame overnight. Again, he wondered if this was a dream, or a hallucination because he had finally snapped.

"_It doesn't look like we're going to Visored_," he noted quietly, not looking at the man driving beside him.

"_Oh no, Starrk-san much prefers fer tha first meeting wit' tha cast ta be in his own home. Says tha' everything flows much nicer_," Gin replied, turning left onto a residential street where the homes had grown even larger. Ichigo pondered whether or not people could actually use all of the room in these houses.

Then it hit him that Gin had said that they were going to Coyote Starrk's house, the director's _hom_e. Feeling sweat begin to break out upon his brow, the orangette shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He didn't want to come off as completely nubile and embarrass himself, so he didn't ask any questions, he just nodded.

It was only four minutes later, and Ichigo knew because he kept glancing at his watch wondering if they were early or late, that Gin announced that they were there, pulling into a rather large cul-de-sac. Ichigo glanced up to see the street sign that declared that this was "Espada Way" and felt the blood drain from his face. He had heard of the famous street before, it was where everyone who _was_ someone lived. So, it would make sense that Coyote Starrk would live there.  
Ichigo didn't know a lot about the talented director aside from his movies (and how utterly brilliant he was), but he did recall Rukia telling him that Starrk had married a beautiful actress a few years ago and had a child with her. He grappled with his mind, trying to remember the names of the actress and their kid, but he had completely forgotten. Perhaps he should take Rukia's advice and read those celebrity magazines more often.

The house of the driveway they pulled into was a whitewashed Spanish Colonial style, with bright blue plantation shutters and doors. Even Ichigo, who had no eye for architecture and design, was impressed by the home's beauty. It looked like something out of a movie.

Holding back a chuckle at his last thought, he opened the car door and stepped out onto the driveway. Almost immediately, he felt his heart begin to race and he could feel his palms begin to moisten, leading him to discreetly wipe them on his denim-clad legs. He was about to meet one of his idols, someone he had adored with a fervor akin to that of a thirteen year old girl and the newest pop sensation. And he was 99.99% sure that he was going to make a fool out of himself.

Who was he kidding? He had never been in a professional production before, and the director would probably be irritated that he had no idea what he was doing. It would be a miracle if he wasn't kicked to the curb within five minutes, and he really didn't want that. It was a long walk home.

_No_, Ichigo's conscience broke through his negativity. _Man up, will ya? Ya got this in the bag, king.  
_  
Gin gestured for the younger man to follow him as he stepped around the car, treading onto the carefully placed stepping stones that lay dispersed through the home's front yard, leading up to the cobalt door. Ichigo silently thanked his mind for supplying him with a confidence booster as he plastered a smile onto his face when Gin rang the doorbell. The orangette noted that the man waited for someone to come to the door, instead of barging in. Ichigo just must be special.

The door soon sung open to reveal someone other than whom he had been expecting.

The woman who answered instead was tall and tanned, with shaggy blonde hair and a cool gaze as she looked over both Gin and Ichigo. She was wearing a white sheath dress and a pearl necklace that looked like it cost more than Ichigo's first car, but she was barefoot, like she had been interrupted when she was in the process of getting ready.

"Ah, hello there Tia," the former greeted, cocking his head to the side. It shocked Ichigo's conscience for a second, hearing the man suddenly switch to English after they had been conversing in Japanese the entire morning. Sometimes the actor forgot he even understood English, especially after only talking with people with whom he spoke Japanese for extended periods of time.

"Hello, Gin. Who is this?" Tia asked, her voice just as cool and steady as her stare. She definitely had an impressive presence and Ichigo had a hard time not looking away from her eyes as he smiled hesitantly at her. The expression felt weird on his face after scowling constantly ever since he had reached puberty.

"This is Ichigo Kurosaki, he's Mr. Hirako's new star," Gin replied, waving a hand in Ichigo's general direction.

"It's nice to meet you," he offered, unsure of what else he should say.

"Likewise," Tia stepped back from the doorway to allow the two men entrance into her home. "Please come in."

As the two men crossed the threshold, Ichigo's eyes immediately widened.

The two-story, circular foyer was even more impressive than the outside of the house, with a large, rustic pendant chandelier hovering almost threateningly over a wooden center table with an arrangement of fresh sunflowers upon it. There was no staircase, but the entire house was open-concept, so that Ichigo could see almost every room of the house without even taking another step. He could even see all the way to the end of the first level, where a backyard with patio furniture and a pool lay beyond open glass doors. But, even though the house was large and lavish, it felt comfortable, like people actually lived in it. He decided he liked it, a lot.

When his eyes finally stopped darting around the house, he finally looked back to the woman of the house who was giving him a slightly amused look, her green eyes glinting with mirth. Obviously, she had enjoyed his reaction to her home.  
"My husband hasn't woken up yet, but you aren't the first to arrive. The others on the lanai," she commented, leading the two guests through her home.

Not wanting to seem stupid, Ichigo suppressed his reaction when he noticed a fireplace in the living area, upon whose mantle sat no less than six Academy Awards, gleaming like tiny golden stars. When he was younger, he had vowed that one day, he would have one just like them. It was a rather far-fetched vow, of course, because only a very select few ever win one, but then again...Ichigo had never thought that he would be standing in Coyote Starrk's house either.

"Right through here," Tia directed, elegantly gesturing towards the open glass doors that led to the spacious backyard. Ichigo could vaguely make out two or three figures in the pool (despite it only being April and maybe seventy degrees outside), almost completely submerged in the water. Was he supposed to have brought swimming trunks?

Gin and Ichigo entered the lanai, which consisted of luxe patio furniture, including a long, white table that was already sporting several half-empty glasses of mimosa (but no food to be seen anywhere, of course.)

There were only two conversing by the table, paying no attention to the other people. One was a small man with dark hair, very pale skin, and a serious expression. The other was an even smaller, almost mousy woman with big eyes, who was eagerly listening to everything the man had to say.

Across from them, where the lounge chairs were situated next to the pool, lay a lithe man with what looked to be bright pink hair. He was apparently trying to talk his companion, another dark-haired, pale man, into applying sunblock to his bare and gaunt chest.

Then there were the three in the pool, two of whom were currently in the process of getting out. One of them was an older man, maybe around forty or so, that had dark brown hair tied at the nape of his neck and a bright smile as he talked with the woman next to him.

But she wasn't listening, her eyes had already zeroed in on Ichigo.

Before the excited squeal burst from her lips, he noticed that she had pretty, sea-foam colored hair (presently damp from the pool) and breasts that were barely covered by her matching swimsuit.

"Oh, you must be my Alexander!" she cried out in a surprisingly jubilant manner, nearly tackling Ichigo to the ground as she suddenly wrapped her arms around him in a familiar embrace. "Oh, you look just like how I pictured him!"

Eyes widening comically and holding his arms out to the sides, he allowed himself be practically suffocated by the woman as she hugged the life out of him. It was only after about thirty seconds of the woman crushing him that she let go enough to look up into Ichigo's face.

"I'm Nel, what's your name?" she asked childishly, her hazel eyes wide and hopeful. For a few seconds, he couldn't remember. Was she really Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck, the author of De Six a Quinze, the book that had been on the New York Times' Bestsellers list for forty weeks? He couldn't imagine this seemingly simple-minded woman writing what some critics called a "masterpiece".

"Ichigo Kurosaki," he eventually said, trying to smile but instead grimacing down at Nel, who beamed up at him.

"Itsygo! What a nice name," she said airly, finally releasing him and stepping back two steps. It was with a sinking heart that Ichigo noted that she had managed to thoroughly soak the front of his shirt and jeans with her wet body.

"Ah, yes it _is _nice," another voice cut in. Ichigo looked from Nel to the newcomer who happened to be the pink-haired man that had been lounging by the pool. He adjusted his trendy white-framed glasses with a slender hand and smirked at the young actor. "Szayel Aporro Granz. It's a pleasure to meet you, Itsygo." The name sounded familiar to him, but he couldn't place it, but something told him that the effeminate man wasn't an actor.

"Yeah, same here and it's I_chi_go," he scowled, emphasizing the "chi" part of his name. He had really tried to be pleasant, but there was only so much he could take. People had made fun of his name enough back in Japan. He was vaguely aware of all of the people on the lanai now focusing their attention to him, and he couldn't help but feel impossibly uncomfortable.

"That's what we said, silly! Itsygo!" Nel laughed, prompting for others around her to join in. "Itsygo" felt his cheeks heat up in mild embarrassment, not particularly liking the sound of these_ haute monde_ people laughing at him. However, warmth positively exploded over his face and neck at the sound of a rather deep chuckle from over his shoulder.

Not wasting any time in finding out who was standing so close to him, Ichigo spun on his heel to face the person. Only to find his mouth go completely dry.

So _this_ was the other person who had been in the pool.

The man was a few inches taller than him, and powerfully built, with lean, sinewy muscle exposed due to the lack of clothing, as he was only clad in a pair of swimming trunks. Water ran in rivulets down his tawny skin, into the indents between the planes of his chest and abdomen. There was not an inch of fat anywhere on the man's body, not an imperfection anywhere, but it wasn't exactly the kind of perfection that made someone envious. It left a kind of empty feeling in one's chest, like a deep ache of _wanting_. But of course, Ichigo did **not** notice these things. Not at _all_.

Instead he took note of the damp blue hair that was slicked back from the man's face, a few tendrils escaping and falling onto his forehead. Ray-Ban sunglasses covered his eyes, but a singular blue eyebrow was visible, arched in an amused expression. The man's grin was so broad Ichigo was sure that his face would splinter into a million pieces any second, but the abnormally sharp canines that were exposed made him feel strange. Like he was prey.

_Grimmjow Jaegerjaques_, Ichigo's mind supplied where his mouth would not.

The famous actor lifted a hand to his sunglasses, raising them so that he could peer down at the orangette. Ichigo suddenly remembered that line from De Six a Quinze, the one that had been talking about eyes. Pure electric, azure fire. Huh, maybe now the book made a little more sense...

"Hi, Strawberry."

* * *

**Grimmjow Jaegerjaques and Loly Aivirrne****: Is it Over Already?**

_Good morning, my lovelies! I certainly had a late night last evening, but I simply couldn't sleep in because I just _had _to report on the scene's latest break-up. Well, can we even call it that when this duo have only been seeing each other for a little over two weeks? Actually, it doesn't even matter! Inside sources report that the bold (and handsome!) __**Grimmjow Jaegerjaques **__and the adorable **Loly Aivirrne **__have called it quits already! _

_Apparently last night the two were dining at the exclusive tapas eatery Menos Grande, where they looked far from happy. _

"_She was really upset," a fellow diner told us. "She bowed her head and it looked like she was about to start crying, but he just looked bored. He asked the waiter for the check not even half an hour after they got there!" _

_Oh, well that doesn't sound too good. : ( I feel bad for poor Ms. Aivirrne, she seemed to be over the moon for the roguish Grimmjow. But I'm sure that plenty of women (and men) are positively tickled pink with the news that the ever gorgeous actor is back on the market. However, with his past player behavior, do you ever think that he'll meet the right woman and settle down? Or will he forever be alone? _

_Even if that's true, I still think I'd jump at the chance to be with that gorgeous piece of man meat! Don't forget to leave your comments on what you think below! Until next time, my lovelies!_

_Love,_

_Rangiku_

* * *

**A/N**: Yes, I know that Grimmjow calling Ichigo "Strawberry" is so played out, but come on, it's like perfect. By the way, have you ever considered that if they were both speaking Japanese and Grimmjow called Ichigo "Strawberry" then he would basically be calling him Ichigo, because that is how the word for strawberry is pronounced in Japanese, so how would Ichigo be able to tell the difference? But, anyway, you will find out why he is being called that in the next chapter. Promise!

Anyway, I'm blown away, I've never had so many reviews before, so thanks so, so, so much to everyone who reviewed/ added this to their favorites/alerts. You are all amazing! I was almost positive that the names/labels and the general superficiality that goes along with a celebrity fic would turn people off, but it didn't and I'm so happy because I can label whore all I want, which I've wanted to do for a very long time. So, thanks for that. : )

Oh, also, I always respond to reviews, but if you don't want me to, just leave an anonymous one or just tell me "don't respond."

Oh, and I love writing Rangiku's blog so much, I think I might do an update for every chapter. Would you like that, or do you find them annoying?

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Bleach, True Religion, Billy Reid, Rag and Bone, or Ray-Ban.

Also, the beginning lyrics are from the song "Caribou and Cake" by Scarling. Yes, 'tis my namesake!


	3. Now We Know

**Chapter Three: Now We Know**

"_Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing." _

_

* * *

_

Grimmjow Jaegerjaques had a variety of strange habits, ranging from quirky to downright bizarre. Most of them had developed later in life, but one had always been a constant practice.

You see, Grimmjow _could _not and _would _not sleep peacefully unless his TV or stereo was on. Cat naps, dreamless, deep sleeps, alcohol or drug induced comas...it didn't matter. He hated silence with a passion, and needed some kind of noise in order to feel something akin to tranquility, even if he didn't ever truly feel at peace...

So when a certain emerald-eyed, dark-haired man let himself into the actor's house that morning to have his ears assaulted by Led Zeppelin's "Achilles Last Stand" at a ridiculously loud volume, his first move was to turn off the stereo. He was surprised that the blue-haired man's neighbors had not officially complained about the noise, especially considering what kind of neighborhood it the quiet rang through the house, just as deafening as church bells, he heard his client's snoring coming from upstairs loud and clear.

A few seconds later, the snoring was cut off by a choking sound and Ulquiorra, with his excellent hearing, could make out the sound of rustling bedclothes and a thud above his head somewhere. Obviously, Grimmjow was now awake, as he had so predicted. The man couldn't stay asleep for long when it was quiet.  
Sighing and shaking his head in a rare moment of outward expression, Ulquiorra walked from beside the stereo to sit down on the ebony couch in the house's living room. Muttered curses drifted down the stairs and then he heard the sound of running water. It seemed like there weren't any others in the house, which was a relief. Ulquiorra hated having to deal with those absurdly clingy men and women, who assumed that Grimmjow would just _love _it if they made him breakfast or did some sort of other domestic thing for him. The actor _liked _them, they would protest as Ulquiorra would show them the door, he _wanted_ them to stay. It was a sad thing that no one realized that Grimmjow didn't like anyone, platonically or romantically.

A door slamming from upstairs reminded Ulquiorra of the task at hand and he immediately went to open his leather, Proenza Schouler briefcase. The expensive thing was filled to the brim with well organized files of papers, all of which related to the representative's only client. And yes, Mr. Cifer could only have one client if that client was Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, since the actor had basically redefined his job description from passive-aggressive litigator to full-time nanny over the past ten years.

If it would have been anyone else, Ulquiorra would have resigned a very long time ago.

He easily found the file he was looking for and withdrew it from the briefcase, setting it on his lap as he heard more thuds, steadily coming closer and closer. If he were a lesser man, he would have flinched at the sounds of the very obviously distressed blunette. One who probably couldn't wait to take his frustrations on the closest person; he had never been a morning person.

"What the fuck are you doing here so damn early?" Grimmjow asked roughly as he stepped off of the stairs, clad only in a pair of loose fitting jeans that hung precariously off of his hipbones. Ulquiorra noticed that the actor had been losing weight recently and mentally sighed.

"I am here to bring you to the script reading at Mr. Starrk's home. I have also brought over some papers for you to sign," he replied in monotone and watched as Grimmjow ran a hand through his tousled hair and walked through the living area into the kitchen.

"Lemme get something to eat first," he demanded, padding over to his refrigerator. Ulquiorra watched as the door swung open to reveal a few boxes of takeout and not much else. Grimmjow reached for one of the boxes, from a local gourmet pizza place, and opened it. After sniffing at the contents, he took a bite out of the cold pizza and turned towards the irreverent man sitting on his couch.

"Edorad will not be happy if you do not adhere to your dietary restrictions," Ulquiorra chided. Apparently the actor didn't much care about his personal trainer's happiness, because he said nothing before scarfing down the rest of the slice of cold pizza. He looked around his kitchen for something to wash it down with, but saw nothing that would actually quench his thirst, so he just shrugged his shoulders and picked up another slice of pizza.

"So, what is it?" he asked a tad harshly with his mouth full, walking back towards Ulquiorra and sitting on the leather armchair adjacent to him.

"These are the contracts that Visored and I have drawn up after two weeks of negotiation. They should be to your liking," Ulquiorra pulled the several thickly bound volumes of legal paper out of the file on his lap and laid them on the white marble coffee table. He saw out of the corner of his eye Grimmjow roll his eyes and set down his _nutritional _breakfast to lean forward.

"Gimme a pen."

Ulquiorra mentally sighed once more (he did this a lot around Grimmjow) and fished a ballpoint pen out of his suit pocket, clicking the top, and handing it to his client, whom had picked up one of the volumes.  
Grimmjow narrowed his eyes as he flipped through the legal contract. He had seen enough of these to know what it would consist of. They were all the same; the only thing he cared about was not having call times before ten o'clock, which he was sure Ulquiorra had negotiated, like every other movie he had ever done.  
Ulquiorra watched as Grimmjow came to the last page and how the star's blue eyes squinted and he leaned back and forth in his seat, glaring at the papers before him. It was almost amusing how the man wouldn't admit to something that was so glaringly obvious.

"You need glasses," he stated matter of factly, waiting for his client's inevitable reaction.

"Fuck you, I don't need any damn glasses," the blunette spat, looking up from the coffee table to Ulquiorra.

"Contacts, then."

Grimmjow just growled and returned to the papers before him, hurriedly scrawling his signature across the line he knew from previous signings was meant for him. He wanted nothing more than to go back to bed and sleep the rest of the day away, but he now remembered that the script reading was just a few hours away and that brought pleasant images to his mind...

Two weeks ago, when he had walked into Shinji Hirako's office and demanded that the orangette he had seen in the hallway to be in the movie with him, he had half-expected for the blonde man to refuse outright. But he had been ever so pleasantly surprised when Hirako had agreed almost immediately after, sending one of his assistants after the boy. Grimmjow was suspicious at first, but then Hirako had told him that he been seriously considering the boy for the part anyway, but had given him the brush-off due to him not being a native speaker of English. Intrigued, Grimmjow had asked what the delicious looking young actor's nationality was and Hirako told him he was Japanese, but that he spoke English with an almost perfect American accent.

If it were possible, after he had learned that the star thought that the young man was even hotter. Not to mention that once Grimmjow had read Ichigo Kurosaki's name out loud, Ulquiorra had commented on how he couldn't believe that anyone would name their child "strawberry". Too cute.

And to think of all the scenes he would get to perform with him...well, at least he thought he knew what kind of scenes they were. Grimmjow had never actually read De Six a Quinze and he wouldn't be handed the script until later that day, which was unusual for a professional production. But he _did _know the basic plot of the book, and he knew that it was quite a hit with the female population. That _had _to mean some serious, steamy sex scenes right?

Grinning to himself and feeling quite content, even after Ulquiorra's mindless comment about his needing glasses, he reclined into his seat, taking another bite of pizza.

"Don't screw this up, Grimmjow."

A little shocked by his representative's phrasing, which was very un-Ulquiorra-like, Grimmjow trained his eyes on the man, cocking an eyebrow. What exactly was that supposed to mean, anyway?

"Lately, your track record with projects has been abysmal. Fame is a fickle friend, Grimmjow, and if you continue..._indulging _and it causes you to lose your part in this production, it will only be a matter of time before you recede into obscurity."

* * *

Coyote Starrk lived remarkably close to Grimmjow's house, considering they both lived on Espada Way. He had actually visited the house several times, as he had been in quite a few of Starrk's movies, and found the laidback director tolerable as far as people in the industry went.

One thing that Grimmjow liked about the house, besides its location, was the large eternity pool in the backyard, settled right on the dip of the hill that the house sat on. And he knew that the eccentric director would insist on having the script reading outside.

He wasted no time before changing out of his jeans into Ralph Lauren navy blue swimming trunks and slipping into Cole Haan leather thong sandals. He didn't bother putting on a shirt considering he would just get in the pool as soon as he got over there, plus he didn't mind showing off his body. He wasn't shy, even if he was a little thinner now than he used to be.

Once in the car, Grimmjow dug into the side compartment and withdrew a white carton. Ignoring Ulquiorra's mildly disapproving stare, he placed a jack between his lips and lit up, taking a deep pull off of it.

He rested his head on the tinted window of the car, rolling it down so the smoke could escape and silently hating the fact that he couldn't drive the car whenever Ulquiorra was with him. He was always chauffeured around like some sort of invalid, because the man insisted that it made a good impression on whomever they were going to meet. Grimmjow liked to drive his precious Maybach. The thing had cost him a pretty penny and the fact that he could barely ever sit in the front seat pissed him off to no ends.

Squinting as the bright morning sun assaulted his eyes, Grimmjow opened the side compartment yet again and pulled out a pair of Ray-Ban's he kept in the car for days like this.

He barely had time to finish his cigarette before they were pulling into the driveway of Coyote Starrk's impressive home, greeted by a young, blonde girl and a barking Siberian husky, that in Grimmjow's opinion had to be at least part wolf. He glared at the dog while he got out of the car; it had never liked him much.  
"Hi Grimm!" the girl greeted from beside the now growling husky. She had short ash blonde hair and bright pink eyes and was wearing a white and black swimsuit.

"Hey," he greeted brusquely, making his way to the front door of the house and trying not to be irritated by the childish nickname. He flicked his cigarette off into the bushes of the immaculately landscaped garden as Ulquiorra followed silently, looking a little overdressed amidst the two swimsuit clad individuals.

The girl let them both into the house, hollering for her mother and pulling her dog along by its collar.

Tia Harribel soon appeared, wearing a white sheath dress and clasping pearl strands onto her tanned neck.  
The actress had been a well-known A-lister when Grimmjow had entered the scene, being about ten years older than him. His very first leading role had been with her, actually, in a movie where he had portrayed a cancer patient and she had been his doctor, a movie that had been directed by Coyote Starrk. It was funny how things worked out like that...

"Hello, Grimmjow. Ulquiorra," she addressed them, nodding her head once.

"Hello, Tia," the latter acknowledged, both of their cool gazes meeting for a brief second before Tia turned to her daughter.

"Lily, you should go wake up your father," she stated levelly as the girl's face fell.

"But Mom, I was going to go in the pool with Grimm," Lilynette whined, the dog beside her making the same sound and wagging his tail. Grimmjow wondered when he had agreed to go swimming with the girl, but let it slide.

Leaving the now arguing mother and daughter behind in the hall, he proceeded through the house to the backyard, where he opened the French-style, glass doors, Ulquiorra on his heels. Sometimes he got annoyed with the quiet man always being two steps behind him, but for the most part he had gotten used to it over the last decade.

"Oh, Grimm, you're here!"

Exhaling sharply at the second unauthorized use of the stupid nickname that day, Grimmjow turned his head to see a slender man with shoulder-length pink hair smiling at him coyly, golden eyes dusky behind white frames.

Szayel Aporro Granz, better known as just Szayel Aporro, had always irritated Grimmjow. He hated that simpering, coquettish lilt to the man's voice and he definitely hated the fact that he could never seem to get away from the pink-haired designer.

"I was wondering when you would show up," Szayel cooed, leaning into Grimmjow's personal space. The blunette scowled and turned on his heel abruptly and pointedly. He vaguely heard the sound of a "hmph" as he approached the eternity pool, which already held one person that was contentedly soaking up the sun's rays in one corner. The man seemed familiar, but Grimmjow couldn't place where he knew him from, so he shrugged it off and kicked off his thong sandals before submerging himself in the cool water.

He had always liked the water, ever since he was very young. Hence, anyone that he knew that had a pool was automatically considered his friend. Taking the opposite corner of the other occupant, he closed his eyes and just stayed there, his feet barely touching the tiles beneath them...it was nice.

About twenty minutes later, in which he had successfully absorbed lots of Vitamin D and ignored a rather annoying woman swimming in the pool as well (luckily she had been diverted by the other man), Grimmjow was disturbed by said woman's wailing.

Cracking an eye open behind his sunglasses, his grin was instantaneous.

The object of his current affection, an orange-haired youth, was currently being suffocated by the irritating woman and her large breasts, something between a scowl and a puzzled look on his face. To say it delighted Grimmjow would be the understatement of the century. That expression was rather cute in his eyes. If only the boy, Ichigo, weren't wearing so many clothes...

And this is what he had been waiting for the entire day.

Now...what was the best way to approach his newly found strawberry, ripe for the plucking?

* * *

It was not even thirty seconds after Ichigo first heard Grimmjow Jaegerjaques' voice in person that he had come to the conclusion that the man was a complete and utter _asshole_.

Ichigo had been unable to find his voice in those seconds that followed, as he was very certainly starstruck and in awe.

You see, the very first time Ichigo had ever seen Grimmjow was in the movie Hollow's Hole. He had been thirteen and the film was one of the science-fiction blockbusters that were absolutely _life-changing._ The rest of the actors had been sub-par, but Grimmjow as the main character who was suddenly thrust with the responsibility of saving the world had been the only convincing Ichigo had ever needed to decide he wanted to be an actor. It was still one of his favorite movies to this day.

So, yes, he was a little speechless when he found himself face to face with the actor whom had once been one of his idols. Yes, keyword being _once_. He doubted he would ever be able to watch any of the man's movies again without wanting to punch something.

Feeling his brow furrow in irritation at the name Grimmjow had called him, he opened his mouth to speak, but still not entirely sure of what he was going to say.

"What's wrong, cat got your tongue?" the blunette beat him to it, still grinning ferally down at Ichigo. He could've sworn that the sun was glinting off of those white teeth and purposefully trying to blind him.  
Ichigo was aware of the heat that rushed to his face at his annoyance at being teased, but he had no way to stop the creeping blush that was slowly overcoming his tawny skin. It was a heavy cross to bear, always blushing whenever he was irritated or pissed off. Everyone always assumed he was embarrassed or something like that, which he was _not_.

"No," Ichigo managed to ground out through his teeth. He wanted to say a lot more, but a voice inside of his brain was yelling at him not to. He really couldn't afford to lose this role just because this guy was teasing him.

Grimmjow laughed, or more like barked, at him, pushing his sunglasses up to rest on the top of his head.  
"Good, you're going to need it." And with that the blunette winked and turned away from Ichigo, whose glare was heated enough to set damp wood on fire. Did Grimmjow really mean what Ichigo thought he did? Because it sounded a lot like the star had just said something that would have landed him a sexual harassment lawsuit. If he were anyone other than Grimmjow Jaegerjaques,of course.

Remember how he said that Grimmjow had _once _been his idol, you know, as of a minute ago, and as in he had been overwhelmed by the thought of doing a movie with him? Well, spell officially fucking _broken_.  
He was so burning his copies of the actor's movies that night.

A haughty chuckle brought Ichigo back to his senses. The orangette ripped his eyes away from where they had been staring daggers into Grimmjow's back to look at the person beside him. It was the man with the pink hair who had introduced himself earlier, Szayel, his effeminate features twisted into a very devious smirk.

"Well, now we know why you got the part, Ichigo," he leered, pushing his white frames up his nose with one elegant finger. But before Ichigo could respond, Szayel had walked away. Not that the young actor had anything to say to that. He had a sinking feeling that perhaps Szayel was onto something...

_Wha' tha hell are ya thinkin', king? Ya got the damn role 'cause yer a hell of a' actor and ya look the part. _Ichigo's subconscious chastised him from the far recesses of his mind. Sometimes that inner voice scared the hell out of him, but it was during times like this that he was grateful for it, and the boost in confidence it provided. He could remember the times when he had mild stage fright at Don Kanonji, especially when performing Shakespeare (which he _hated_), and the voice would pop up in the back of his brain, encouraging him. Ichigo had wondered if he was schizophrenic, but he would take it if meant a raise in self-esteem, which was needed in an industry as brutal as acting.

Especially when he had just found out that his new co-star was an epic pervert.

"You must be Ichigo," a quiet voice drawled to the right of where Ichigo was still standing by the pool. It was then he realized that mostly everyone had abandoned him to gather by the long table. several of them with refreshed glasses of mimosas. Except for one, who was just downing straight champagne unashamedly.

He turned to see whom had spoken to him and was greeted with the sight of a handsome man with sleepy gray-blue eyes (that Ichigo would've sworn looked silver when the sun hit them) and shaggy brown hair, a slight goatee growing on his chin. He was sporting a white, crew neck t-shirt, flannel pyjama bottoms, and a lazy grin.

Coyote Starrk.

"I...uh, yes...that's me," Ichigo stuttered, holding out his hand because he felt like that's what he should do. Starrk's grin broadened and he clasped the younger man's hand firmly.

"It's nice to meet you," he said.

"Y-yeah, you t-too." Ichigo mentally cursed at himself for sounding like such an idiot in front of the famous director he had admired from afar for so long.

"Glad you could make it. Let's go to the table and get acquainted with everyone," the older man suggested, his eyes twinkling. Ichigo just nodded, deciding it was better if he just didn't speak from now on.

Starrk walked over to the table, where the various people were still talking and drinking alcohol at ten-thirty in the morning. They all looked to him, smiles appearing on most of their faces.

"Hello everyone," he greeted, sitting at the head of the table and, much to Ichigo's surprise, placing his bare feet on the table. Not that he was a germophobe or anything, but didn't people _eat there_?

Starrk gestured for him to sit at his left hand side and Ichigo obliged, plopping into the uncomortable wicker chair. Immediately the rest of the people followed suit; Gin sat Ichigo's left and guess who sat directly across from him?

Yeah, he could already feel the blush start to rise to his skin yet again at the thought of the last comment Grimmjow had directed towards him.

Ichigo was aware of the man's oceanic blue eyes on him, as if he were the most interesting thing in the world, but he was determined not to look at him. He _would _not look at him and give the bastard the satisfaction that Ichigo had even known that Grimmjow had been staring at him.

"It's nice to see you all again," Starrk said pleasantly, looking at all of the faces watching him. Ichigo mentally lamented at the fact that he was the only newcomer in the bunch. The rest all knew each other and he was fresh meat. "But perhaps we should all do some introductions, since we have a newcomer in our midst."

Heat positively exploded over the back of Ichigo's neck and the tips of his ears. He hated it when all of the attention was on him, the only exception being when he was acting.

There was silence for a few moments before Gin spoke.

"I'm Gin Ichimaru, personal representative to Ichigo Kurosaki," he announced, tilting his head and "looking" at everyone at the table.

"My name is Shunsui Kyoraku, and I will be playing the part of Baron Caryle Ratcliff," a man with long dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and an easy smile said. Ichigo felt his eyes widen. Why hadn't he recognized the famous actor? Yes, it had been a while since Shunsui Kyroraku had done any acting roles besides cameos, but the man had been in the business for as long as Ichigo had been alive.

"Ulquiorra Cifer, personal representative to Mr. Jaegerjaques," a dark-haired, pale man introduced himself in a colorless monotone.

"Oh my turn! Well, I'm Nel and um, I wrote the book and the script!" Nel squealed, clasping her hands together and looking around eagerly.

"Uh, hello there. My name is Momo Hinamori and I am the assistant director," a small, mousy girl with brown hair and eyes said bashfully, smiling at everyone.

"I am Uryuu Ishida, assistant head of wardrobe," the young man who had been sitting by the pool earlier imparted, sliding his glasses up his nose in an eerily similar way to-

"Szayel Aporro, but you all already knew that, correct? Obviously I don't need to tell you that I will be head of wardrobe on this project," the pink-haired man simpered, lifting a hand to flip a segment of his hair over his shoulder. Ichigo mentally sighed. He had honestly thought that people like this were just in books and movies, but apparently not. The man was already on his shit list, along with-

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaques," a husky, rough voice stated before the owner consumed the rest of his champagne in one gulp. Ichigo still didn't look at him, but mostly because he wasn't sure if he was supposed to introduce himself too...

After a few moments, he decided that he should, because no one else was talking.

"Uh, I'm Ichigo...Kurosaki, and I'm going to be Alexander," he said hesitantly, hoping that it was the right thing to say. He was already mentally exhausted and to think it was just the start of a very, very long day.

* * *

**Famed Designer Szayel Aporro to Bring Late Victorian Period to Life**

_Buona sera, my lovelies! (That's "good evening" in Italian! ; )). I'm here to bring exciting news to those keeping tabs on the new Visored production __De Six a Quinze __and who are fans of the outlandish haute couture designer __**Szayel Aporro**__! We all know, since I exclusively reported it, that the novel to movie adaptation is set to start filming soon. And we know that it will be starring the ambrosial __**Grimmjow Jaegerjaques **__and the luscious newcomer __**Ichigo Kurosaki**__! So, what could make this love story any better than those two having incredibly sexy romps onscreen? Well, what if I told you that __**Szayel Aporro **__himself was designing the clothes!_

_I myself bought a pair of his limited edition Lumina platform heels when they were released last fall and wore them _everywhere_, much to the chagrin of my co-workers! Eat your hearts out ladies! :D Anyway, I'm sure you can imagine my excitement when my sources revealed to me that the infamous designer will be heading the costume design for __De Six a Quinze__! Of course, anyone who has read the book knows that it is set in the late nineteenth century, so what do you think we can expect? Suspenders? Top hats? Canes? And we can't forget about that pocket watch! _

_I'm practically salivating at the thought of all of the irresistible men decked out in the historical garb, but of course I'm much more looking forward to when they take it all off! So, do you think that by taking this job _

_**Szayel Aporro **__is directly challenging his fashion designer rival __**Mayuri Kurotsuchi **__who was awarded a CFDA last year for the costumes he designed for the film __Maggot's Nest__? I sure hope so! I do so love a good fashion fight...  
Don't forget to leave your comments on what you think below! Until next time, my lovelies!_

_Love,_

_Rangiku  
_

_

* * *

_

**A/N**: Kind of a crappy chappy I know...: ( I was kind of stuck on it in the middle of it.

You know what's interesting? I searched a zodiac sign compatibility for Ichigo and Grimmjow (going on the original twelve signs, Ichigo is a Cancer and Grimmjow is a Leo). This is what I found: "_Cancer and Leo? Forget it. That means NO. Sometimes things work between you two, sometimes they don't. However, one way or another, good moments tend to turn into bad moments eventually._" (Source: Eastrolog)

Harsh, right? But I do so love challenges...

Anyway, thanks so much to everyone who reviewed and added this to their alerts/favorites. You guys make Physics so much more tolerable when I can check my e-mail and see the FF net messages. : D

**If you have been having the same problem with the Error Message 2** whenever you try to updates your stories, someone told me a nifty little trick. Okay, so you should replace the "property" in the URL on the error page with "content" and it will take you to the add/edit chapters page.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach, Led Zeppelin, Proenza Schouler, Ralph Lauren, Cole Haan, Ray-Ban, or the CFDA's.

Also, the beginning quote is from Sylvia Plath. I love her so much...


	4. Perfect Together

**Chapter Four: Perfect Together**

"'_Tis strange - but true; for truth is always strange;_

_Stranger than fiction."_

_

* * *

_

When Starrk suggested that Nel (the author and script writer, if you don't remember) provide everyone at the table with a summarization of the plot and characters of De Six a Quinze, Ichigo could have sworn that an invasion of the body snatchers had just occurred.

The woman with sea-foam hair brushed it over her shoulder, her hazel eyes suddenly looking very serious, and she sat back, her shoulders straightening so that her posture was severe. It looked a little silly considering she was still in her bathing suit, but her entire demeanor had changed. Everyone else seemed to have noticed too, because they were all staring at Nel with rapt attention, waiting eagerly for what she had to say next.

"Well, I always loved the romantic classics when I was a young girl, you know _Wuthering Heights_ and _Jane Eyre_ and _Pride and Prejudice_, books like that, and I've always wanted to write something akin to them, but I despise writing with female characters. And so, Alexander and the Viscount were born!" Nel switched back to her other personality for a second, emphasizing her point with a finger in the air, before returning to what Ichigo had dubbed her "serious author mode".

"The Viscount Heathcliff Allistair," she looked to Grimmjow from across the table and smiled softly. The actor didn't even look at her; he just frowned at the table in front of him. "He's an outwardly cold man and he really doesn't care for anyone but himself. He's dignified and severe but despite this, he's very ambitious and power-hungry. That leads him to making some shady deals with crime lords and of course, leads him to hire an errand boy."

Nel's wheaten eyes swiveled over to land on Ichigo, whom had been trying to picture the smirking blunette actor in a role so unlike him.

"Alexander Fullbring's an orphan and led a hard life that turned him into a thief and a bit of a thug, and he's just the opposite of the Viscount. He's passionate and impulsive, but he wants people to respect him. He'll do anything to prove himself."

Ichigo's brow furrowed as he processed the new information about his character. It was useful, that was for sure, but how would he play the part? Earnest and youthful? Fiery and hotheaded? Maybe a bit of both?

"I think that pretty much says everything about the book without going into all of the minute details," Nel smiled brightly, clasping her hands together. "Oh, and it's set in the late nineteenth century."

There was silence for a few moments as everyone mulled over the enlightenment they had received about the main characters.

"Well, then we can get on to handing out the scripts, right?" Starrk drawled, leaning even further back in his chair. Ichigo thought he might tip the thing over eventually if he leaned back any more, but luckily he had taken his feet off of the table.

The small woman with the large brown eyes, Momo, nodded as if she understood that, that was her call to duty and scurried away from the table and into the house. She returned not even thirty seconds later with a stack of paper almost bigger than that teetered dangerously in her arms until she set them on the table with a dull thud.

She passed the first bound volume to Ichigo, since she had placed them in between him and Starrk. He accepted it with a hesitant smile and his eyes flitted from her face to the thing in his hands. It was rather thick, the movie was obviously going to be a long one, and he immediately flipped through it, the typed version of Alexander Fullbring's name catching his eye each time it flashed before him.

It seemed like nearly all of his scenes were with the Viscount, a.k.a. a certain blue- haired jackass that was currently sitting across the table from him.

Ichigo chanced a glance upwards and was surprised to see Grimmjow not looking at him. The man was instead focused on his own copy of the script and his eyes were scanning a page, his face set into a concentrated frown. He looked good like that, because even though his cyan orbs were hard, almost crystallized, he looked almost...vulnerable, like he was lost in his own world.

The back of orangette's neck suddenly felt hot and he looked back to the script in his lap. Why had he thought that Grimmjow would always be looking at him? Clearly he had just been messing with Ichigo when he had said those things earlier, probably just to get a reaction out of the newbie. And he had gotten one.

Ichigo sighed heavily, unaware of several pairs of eyes on him.

"Something wrong, Ichigo?"

His head snapped up to look at the one whom had spoken to him. It had been the costume designer, Szayel Aporro, who was surveying him with his dark golden eyes over the white frames perched on his nose. It was kind of unnerving; it made Ichigo feel like some sort of specimen ready to examined.

He shook his head, his eyes swiveling back to where Starrk was smiling lazily at him, a script in his lap as well.

"Shall we get started with the script reading?" he asked, gaze sweeping over everyone at the table. No one said anything. "Well, I thought that we would get started with the scene on page fifty-"

"Oh, Mr. Starrk!" It was Nel who interrupted with an apologetic, but eager look on her face. "If you don't mind, I thought we might do the scene that starts on page eighty-four."

One of Starrk's eyebrows rose at the suggestion and he placed a finger to his chin in thought.

"That's a good idea. Page eighty-four it is."

Ichigo briefly wondered as he flipped to eighty-fourth page if they were only going to read one scene out loud, and if he would even be in it. Even if he was a main character, he wasn't in every scene, and then there was the dilemma of if the scene was going to be a heavily romantic one. He didn't know if he was prepared to declare his undying love to the man across the table...even if it was just acting; he hadn't had a lot of romantic scenes during school and even less after that.

"Alright, so set the scene Nel, if you don't mind," Starrk suggested, leaning forward from his relaxed position to rest his elbows on the table.

"Okay! Well, this is in the middle of the book, or, er, movie, actually. And it's the scene where Alexander first professes his feelings for the Viscount in his own way after an argument."

Ichigo automatically felt the blood drain from his face, leaving him feeling cold. His eyes flickered from Nel to the blunette across from him, who was now grinning maniacally, sending goosebumps to Ichigo's skin.

This was exactly what he had been dreading.

But just as Ichigo was about to get up from his chair and walk away, his resolve took hold of him. He wasn't about to let the fear of feeling like an idiot stop him from filming his first movie, even if his new co-star was an asshole. He wasn't that easy to get rid of.

His fingers grazed the edge of page eighty-four and he looked down to see that he spoke first.

"Whenever you're ready, Ichigo," Starrk seemed to read his mind.

His eyes flew across the page, taking in all of the dialogue. He straightened his posture and raised his head to look straight into azure eyes staring him down from only two feet away. Intimidating, but Ichigo frowned and gripped his script tightly in his hands, This wasn't Grimmjow Jaegerjaques in front of him, this was the Viscount Heathcliff Allistair. And he wasn't Ichigo Kurosaki, he was Alexander Fullbring.

The script said in brackets that Alexander had just walked through the door of the Viscount's office, ready to deliver news. He opened his mouth and spoke.

"Rinker's dead."

There was a pause.

"How?"

Grimmjow's voice was no longer his own. His tone was clipped and severe, very much unlike his own lazy drawl. His face had changed as well, it was now a mask of detached scorn.

"Shot. Once in the head and twice in the stomach."

Another pause.

"I cannot say he did not deserve it. He was far too careless."

"Are you saying he deserved death?" Ichigo's voice rose an octave, betraying Alexander's anger at the man's dispassionate reaction to the news of the man's death.

"I did not say that. I merely said that I cannot say that he did _not _deserve it."

"You're a heartless bastard, ya know that?"

Grimmjow's face twisted into a cold sneer. It was unnerving, like it never belonged there, ever.

"You would do well not to talk to your superiors like such, Fullbring."

"Oh yeah? Who's my superior?"

"I am."

Ichigo snorted in derision, actually turning his head to the side.

"And who decided that? You, I guess?"

"You are mistaken, it is not me who decides these things."

"Who, then?"

"Fate, for one."

"I know you don't believe that," Ichigo dropped his voice down to a mutter and looked back to the blunette.

"How else can you explain the simple fact that I was born into my position and you, into a life of poverty?" Grimmjow cocked an eyebrow.

"I don't know, luck, maybe?"

"It is simple Fullbring. I was born to have power because I deserved to have it. You were not, therefore I am your superior. It was already determined before you had even been conceived."

"Are you implying that I'm not important? That I can just be thrown away once I'm of no use to you?" Ichigo's tone was murderous.

"I am not implying anything. I am telling you that you are not important."

Ichigo slammed his hands on the table, his script falling to the ground. No one else in that moment existed but him and Grimmjow, Alexander and the Viscount. It had always been a flaw of his, getting too emotionally involved in his roles. He felt as if he was actually living that moment and so he had no concern about what he would say next.

"Kiss me and you will see how important I am."

It seemed as if the world held still for a few moments. Ichigo watched as Grimmjow surveyed him with the cold, yet stormy eyes of the Viscount and how his upper lip twitched a little. He wasn't sure what to do, he hadn't read past that line.  
Sudden clapping to Ichigo's left startled him and he jumped a bit.

"Bravo, that was just wonderful," Szayel smiled that insidious smile of his, still clapping his hands together. Others around the table joined in, some more enthusiastically than others. Nel, however, clapped the loudest and Ichigo was stunned to see tears in the woman's eyes.

"Oh, you two are just perfect together!"

* * *

"_Tired Kurosaki-san?_"

"_A little_."

Ichigo was currently resting his head on the window pane of the car as he and Gin sped through the rolling hills of upper L.A. It was only two-thirty in the afternoon, but the young actor already felt exhausted. The entire day had been completely draining, from being woken up by Rukia's phone call and then Gin barging into his apartment to the entire script reading, which had ended up involving only actually reading one scene from the script. The rest had been Gin shoving papers at him to sign and Szayel's assistant measuring him for wardrobe.

And the day was still not over.

Gin explained to him as they drove deep into the industrial part of the city that they were going to see two friends of his, to prepare Ichigo for his role. The orangette wasn't sure what that meant, but he was too tired to care. Maybe he could just close his eyes for just a second...

When the car came to a sudden stop Ichigo jolted awake to see that they were on a nice commercial street, with plenty of shoppers still roaming the streets. Apparently Gin had seen someone backing out of a coveted parking spot and so he had stopped suddenly in order to snag it before someone else did.

They were now parked in between a trendy boutique and an equally trendy salon. Ichigo frowned. Were they going shopping? Couldn't that wait until he had had a nap at least? Sure he liked looking nice and whatever, but he didn't really like to shop. But he wasn't about to complain when Visored had set this up for him.

"_Come now, Kurosaki san. We're gonna ta miss our appoin'men',_" Gin called to Ichigo as he exited the car, stepping onto the abnormally clean sidewalk.

_Appointment?_ he wondered, but he didn't say anything, keeping his mouth shut. Possibilities ran through his mind as he thought of what that could mean. He knew that a lot of actors and the like had stylists, so maybe he was meeting with one of those? He didn't really like the idea of it, but it was tolerable, he guessed.

As it turns out, the appointment was not with a stylist, but at _Azure Bloom_, which Ichigo would have had known was only _the _salon of the moment if he bothered to read those glamour magazine, or even Seiretei's blog, as Rangiku Matsumoto was known to rave about the salon's amenities.

"Uh, Gin, why are we here?" Ichigo asked, switching back to English out of habit since they were around other people as they stepped into the salon. It was pretty nice, he had to admit, with zebra wood cabinetry and modern cement floors. There were a few women lingering around the counter by the door, all tall and thin. They gave the two men a curious look and once they had deemed them attractive enough, they all smiled winningly. At the same time. It was bizarre.

"Hello, do you have an appointment?" one of them asked in a low voice, failing miserably at having a "bedroom" lilt to her speech.

"Yes, unda' tha name Ichimaru," Gin told them, cocking his head to the side. The woman automatically went to the open scheduling book before her and located Gin's name.

"Oh, I see! Let me just go in the back for a second." And with that she was off. Ichigo sighed, he really hoped that whatever Gin and Visored had in store for him, it wasn't a haircut. He had been trying to grow his hair out for months now; he thought it looked better this way.

"Ah, hello, Gin. It's been a while," an airy voice spoke as the owner walked into the room. He was a small man, a few inches shorter than Ichigo, with a pretty face and black hair cut in a chic bob. He was wearing a black long-sleeved turtleneck, matching black pants, and a white blazer over top of that. His dark mauve eyes swept over Ichigo briefly before returning to Gin. "This is him, I presume," he said, gesturing towards the actor.

"Yea', this here's Ichigo Kurosaki. Takin' 'im in ta'day for the full treatmen'," Gin chuckled, putting emphasis on the word "full". The effeminate man nodded seriously, once again casting a glance over to Ichigo before nodding once and wrapping a slim hand around the young actor's elbow.

It seemed that before Ichigo could even wonder what the "full treatment" was, he was being led down the two opposing rows of black chairs and white mirrors and seated rather forcefully into one of those chairs. Bewildered, he was about to ask just what was going on but was cut off when the black-haired man grabbed one of his hands and held them up for inspection.

"What do you use to file your nails? A chainsaw?" He sighed. "Not beautiful at all..."

Ichigo could feel his fingers curl in on themselves, desperate to get away from the condescending look the man was giving them.

"Ah, well, at least you have immaculate bone structure," the man let one of his hands graze over one of the orangette's cheekbones, then turning on his heel and briskly walking away. Ichigo rose one eyebrow and looked over to Gin, who was standing a few feet behind him.

"_What exactly is going on here?_" he asked in Japanese.

"_Oh, don't worry Kurosaki-san. Yumichika's tha best, even Ran says so,_" Gin answered cryptically, watching with what Ichigo could only assume was mild sadistic pleasure as he squirmed in his chair and waited for "Yumichika" to return.  
When he did, it was with a very tall, very large, purple-haired...man, who immediately clasped his meaty hands underneath his chin and loomed over the chair Ichigo was sitting in with heart-shaped eyes.

"Oh, I am such a big fan! I've read De Six a Quinze a million times," the purple-haired cooed, batting his rather long eyelashes.

"Uh, thanks," Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He didn't think that anyone would know who he was already; he had just gotten the role two weeks ago. It was a little surreal.

"That's enough, Charlotte. Get to work, please," Yumichika cut in, standing directly in front of Ichigo and crossing his arms. "Give him the usual. A sugar scrub should do for the exfoliant, and go heavy on the lemon butter, his cuticles are atrocious."

Ichigo spent the next two hours being tweezed, scrubbed, plucked, filed, and trying to remember exactly what cuticles were. He didn't speak much as the surprisingly silent Charlotte worked fast and efficiently, buffing his nails to a shine and spreading various substances on his face and neck and he only winced and swore under his breathe when the man had tackled his eyebrows, ripping the hairs out of Ichigo's skin. However, when the outlandish man went to cut his hair, he protested.

"It's taken me a long time to grow it out. If you cut it, it's just going to spike even more," Ichigo said, leaning away from the menacing looking scissors in Charlotte's hand, whom was pouting heavily.

"But-"

"Don't cut his hair, Charlotte." It was Yumichika, who had returned from wherever he had been in the massive salon. "It will not turn out beautifully at all."

Charlotte nodded dejectedly, obviously he had been looking forward to running his fingers through Ichigo's shaggy, orange tresses. The young actor was getting restless after spending two hours in the chair and shifted uncomfortably. Did the owner's return mean that he could go home now? He needed a nap even more desperately now than he did when he had walked into Azure Bloom.

"You can leave now," Yumichika waved a hand in the purple-haired man's direction before stepping directly behind Ichigo and staring into the mirror that was in front of the two. The orangette tried not to pull away when he threaded his fingers through the hair at his neck. "Yes, you're right. It probably looks more beautiful longer."

Yumichika withdrew his hands and stepped back, a slight smile touching his face.

"I'll see you at the set," he said before spinning on his heel and walking away. Ichigo's brow furrowed in confusion. Why would the man, the owner of a salon, be at the set, by which he could only mean the set of De Six a Quinze.  
Sighing, Ichigo rose from the chair, stretching his cramped muscles and slowly making his way towards the front of the salon. He was very ready to go home; his skin felt clean, but raw, and his nail beds were a little sore. He couldn't believe he had just spent two hours being preened like some sort of primadonna. Hopefully this was the only and last time this happened.

"_Ah, don't ya look ravishing, Kurosaki-san_," Gin's voice called to him from across the salon lobby, where he was waiting by the door. There was a tall, busty woman by his side with strawberry-blonde hair and what looked like a vintage Chanel suit. Ichigo's eyes flitted between the two for a second before the woman smiled coyly and turned to Gin.

"Thanks, Gin. I'll see ya later," she said in a blatantly arch tone and with that she gave a small wave, her blue eyes flickering back to Ichigo for a quick moment before walking out of the salon. He briefly wondered who she was before deciding he didn't care.

* * *

Gin drove him home in relative silence and only gave a quick "_Remember to keep ya phone on._" before peeling away from the curb at breakneck speed.

Ichigo dug in his pocket as he ascended the stairs of his apartment building and withdrew said phone. Pressing his thumb on one of the buttons, he saw that it needed to be charged desperately and groaned at the notion of finding his charger somewhere in his apartment. The thing was always hiding from him.

He stepped off the stairs at the third floor and walked to 3A, letting himself in without needing a key or anything, since the lock didn't latch. He would have to talk to his landlord about that...

Gin had told him that Visored wanted to move him to a hotel for the duration of the filming, but Ichigo had refused. When everything was changing at such a fast rate, he needed one thing that would stay the same, even if fox-faced men could barge in anytime they wanted to.

"_Ichigo_!"

Dropping the papers in his hand to the floor in surprise, his eyes widened as a small woman jumped off of his bed and barreled down the small, studio apartment to stand in front of him.

"_Tell me everything! Now_," the woman demanded in Japanese, pointing a finger in Ichigo's face. Her dark violet eyes were sparkling in anticipation and she smiled. Ichigo felt a grin appear on his own face in return.

"_Let me sit down first, Rukia. I'm beat_," he reasoned, moving past the dark-haired woman and falling onto the sofa, just because it was closer than the bed. With his face pressed into the cushions he groaned in delight as he felt his tired muscles relax.

"_Come on, Ichigo! Tell me! Did you meet Grimmjow Jaegerjaques? Was he nice? Did you do any scenes with him_?" Rukia perched herself on the edge of the sofa arm, looking down at Ichigo's shaggy orange hair since she couldn't see his face. He turned his head to the side to stare up at her with one eye.

"_Yes. No. One_."

Rukia placed one finger to her chin in thought and looked up to the ceiling.

"_He's not nice? But he seems so sweet! Especially in that movie, you know the one with that redheaded actress where he's some sort of mathematical genius but no one understands him except for him? What was that called again..._" she trailed off, obviously trying to think of the name of the movie.

"_Grind_?"

"_That's the one_," Rukia turned her gaze back to Ichigo, a mischievous smile spreading across her pretty face. "_So...did you kiss him yet_?"

"_What? No!_" Ichigo rose up to his knees to glare at the woman, but she merely giggled in return.

"_Oh, please. Don't give me that offended act. You _will_ have to kiss him eventually, right?_"

"_Well...yeah_," he admitted, sitting back on his haunches.

"_You know, Ichigo, sometimes I wonder about you. All those times I slept over at your house when I was having problems with Nii-san and not one time did you try anything_..."

"_Hey, I was just_-"

"_And then of course there were all those girls in high school who asked you out and you turned them all down_."

Ichigo sputtered, trying to find his voice. So what if he had never put the moves on Rukia or any of those girls in high school? Just because he was waiting for the right woman didn't mean that he was...

"_Relax, Ichigo. I was just kidding_," Rukia laughed behind one of her small hands, enjoying the actor's visceral reaction to her teasing.

"_Shut up_," he growled in response, turning away from her and about to say that he wouldn't tell her anything about his day now, but his phone started to vibrate in his pocket. He took the thing out and stared at the screen, briefly thinking that it was Gin since he was the one that had told him that he needed to keep his phone on, and since the number didn't look familiar to him, he was pretty sure he was right. Pressing the "call" button and holding the phone up to his ear, he answered in Japanese.

"'The hell?" came the confused voice on the other end, like rough velvet. It was one that Ichigo recognized immediately and his eyes widened. Why the hell was _he _calling him?

"How did you get my number?" he blurted without thinking, this time in English. A low chuckle on the other end made Ichigo's face flush.

"I have my sources. So, how's it goin', Strawberry?" There was a sound on the line that sounded like the wind rushing by, like the caller was in a car.

"My name is _not _'Strawberry'," Ichigo insisted harshly, already irritated with the man yet again.

"Yeah, okay, _Ichigo_," he laughed again, something that sounded almost like he was barking. Ichigo knew he couldn't hang up on the man, considering that they would have to work together for the next several months and during those months they would have to do certain...things. Plus, he really couldn't afford to be fired because he had been rude to his co-star.

"Why are you calling me, Grimmjow?" Ichigo asked through his teeth, ignoring when Rukia fell off of the sofa behind him after she jumped up in surprised delight."

"Well, I was thinkin' that we should get together. Ya know, to get to know each other and whatever."

Ichigo's mind immediately went to the first conversation he had had with the blunette actor and frowned heavily. He hadn't even known that the man swung that way, but was that he meant by "get to know each other"?

"I don't know, I'm really busy," he said.

"Aw, come on. It's just dinner. Ya can even pick the place if ya want," Grimmjow pleaded, his tone obviously one that charmed his way into a lot of different beds and hearts.

Well, he would have to see the man nearly everyday for the next several months, right? What was one friendly dinner?

"Yeah, fine."

"Great, I'll pick ya up at nine tomorrow."

The line cut, leaving a very confused Ichigo on his sofa, wondering if he had just made a date with the blunette star. And who picks up someone at nine for dinner? And how could Grimmjow even pick him up if he didn't even know where Ichigo lived?

He turned back to where Rukia was now kneeling on the floor by the tray Ichigo used for his coffee table, not bothering to get back on the sofa after falling off. She was staring up at him with starry eyes, hands clasped underneath her chin.

"_Please tell me that's who I think it was._"

"_Yeah_," Ichigo sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He was very tired, but he knew he wouldn't get any sleep for a while when Rukia wanted to know every minute detail about every person he had met and every thing he had done that day. But before she could ask him anything else, his cell phone started to vibrate again.

Looking at the screen, he saw it was another unknown number.

* * *

**The Very First Interview with Newcomer Ichigo Kurosaki!**

_Konnichiwa my lovelies! (That's "hello" in Japanese :)) I know you all have been eagerly awaiting more news from the set of __**De Six a Quinze**__ and I am here to deliver! Believe it or not, my inside sources secured __**Ichigo Kurosaki**__, our future Alexander Fullbring, to be interviewed the very first time exclusively by yours truly! And I have to say, this up-and-comer sounds just as cute over the phone than he looks in his head shot; I simply cannot wait to meet him in person! Anyway, when I spoke with Mr. Kurosaki earlier this evening he seemed a little shy, he even stuttered a few times! Tres adorable, right?I uploaded the audio version to the web page so you all can hear his wonderful voice too. It's not very long, I'm afraid, I wasn't able to coax a lot out of that boy, but, without further ado, here's the transcript! _

_**RM**__: Congratulations on your first major role!  
_  
_**IK:**__ Thanks.  
_  
_**RM**__: So, how has it changed your life so far? Have people been treating you differently ever since you landed the part?_

_**IK**__: Um, not really, I guess. Nothing's really changed.  
_  
_**RM**__: Really?  
_  
_**IK**__: -laughs-Yeah.  
_  
_**RM**__: Well, I know all about your character, Alexander, having read De Six a Quinze, but what can you tell us what it is about him that made you want to take the part?  
_  
_**IK**__: Uh, well...he's passionate. I like that._

  
_**RM**__: Ooh, passionate, huh? So, what are_ you_ passionate about?  
_  
_**IK**__: Acting.  
_  
_**RM**__: Well, I wouldn't expect anything less from a serious actor like yourself! So, you're set to start filming soon. Tell me, have you met your co-star __**Grimmjow Jaegerjaques**__ yet?  
_  
_**IK**__: Yes.  
_  
_**RM**__: Can you tell us anything about him?  
_  
_**IK:**__ He's -pause- nice.  
_  
_**RM**__: Are you nervous about filming love scenes with such a celebrated actor?  
_  
_**IK**__: Honestly, I'm more nervous about being around him off-set.  
_  
_**RM**__: Oh, really? Why's that?  
_  
_**IK**__: -pause- It's a little intimidating. He's pretty famous.  
_  
_**RM**__: Very true. So I have one more question before you go.  
_  
_**IK**__: Yeah?  
_  
_**RM**__: Are you seeing anyone?  
_  
_**IK:**__ -laughs- No, I'm too busy for that. _

_So there you have it, ladies. Ichigo Kurosaki is humble, a man of few words, and my personal favorite: S-I-N-G-L-E. What more could a girl want? Don't forget to leave your comments on what you think below! Until next time, my lovelies!_

_Love,_

_Rangiku_

_

* * *

_

_Tongues thrashed about, battling each other for dominance. His lips were being abused in the most torturous and sweetest of ways, teeth scraping and sinking into the rosy flesh. His hands rose to grasp the face that was melded to his and ghosted his fingertips over the smooth skin, down to the strong neck and the tendrils of hair on the nape. He curled his digits into that hair, grasping onto it like it was the only thing in the entire world that kept him from slipping under.  
_  
_Buttons were undone and suspenders fell from shoulders under shaking, earnest hands. His palms slipped underneath soft cotton to feel the silken, heated skin of the man he loved. The lips pulled away from his own, but before he could protest they were on his jawbone, caressing the sensitive flesh there, and then onto his neck. Teeth clamped down on the tender spot between his collarbone and the hollow of his throat. A wanton moan passed through his lips as that glorious mouth laved and exploited that sweet spot and he could feel his pants tighten and wished that they would be done away with as well.  
_  
_Searing hands found their way from the desk and onto his chest, gently pushing him to lie on the cool wood and the rest of his shirt fell to the ground, forgotten. He'd never felt more exposed or vulnerable in his entire life and yet he relished the feeling, how the other man was looking at him like he was an enticing dish ready to be devoured, it was delicious.  
_  
_His eyes found their way to the other's. Electric, incandescent blue orbs stared back at him in the darkness, bright with anticipation and he shivered, suddenly feeling cold as those hands were no longer on him.  
_  
_"Please, touch me."_

Ichigo set the book in his hands back onto the tray in front of him and leaned back into his small couch. He had to admit, Nel had a way with words. She had somehow made a love scene between two men..._hot_. But that was due to the wording of course, nothing else.

Yeah, that's right. _Wording. _Not the mental image of piercing blue eyes staring him down, not at all.

* * *

**A/N: **Can you believe it? Twenty thousand words and four chapters and it's still the same day. Reminds me of this book I read halfway through only to realize it was still the same day because all the characters had done was had sex.*Sigh* So I threw in a little extra watered down smut there to keep you guys entertained, even if it wasn't technically Grimmjow and Ichigo. I hope I'm keeping everyone in character. Kinda hard when you've got such a different setting...so what do you guys think? Love it, hate it?

And yes, Gin gave Rangiku Ichigo's number.

Anyway, thank you so, so, so much to everyone who added this to their alerts/favorites and especially to those that reviewed. You are all amazing and motivate me to write. I know I'm far from the best, but you guys make me feel good about writing, so thank you. : )

**I've also started a new story if any of you guys are interested**. It's GrimmIchi, of course, it's a Vampire AU, and it's entitled "Tristete Dulce". The first chapter is quite sad and dramatic, so it's very different from this one, but I think it's decent. : ) I just have SO many ideas for GrimmIchi stories it's hard to contain them sometimes.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach or Chanel.

The beginning quote is from George Gordon Byron. Fits well, huh? Also, Sylvia Plath's quote "Kiss me and you will see how important I am" totally inspired the scene from DSaQ.


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